


Dungeon Crawler

by snarechan



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blood and Injury, Character Study, Daemons, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Healing, Magic, Male Friendship, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 10:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14306454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarechan/pseuds/snarechan
Summary: Separated from the others, circumstances dictate that Noctis' and Prompto's roles as caretakers be reversed. It's a struggle, to say the least, and Noctis must search deep inside himself to find the power to persevere.





	Dungeon Crawler

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not ashamed to admit how much I love this story. It was part of a larger project that I shelved because of too many reasons to list here, but thanks to some friends I got inspired to write seriously again. This was something I'd intended to just polish real quick except it turned into a big undertaking again. I couldn't be happier with the direction this story ended up taking and the final product, though. 
> 
> Edited by Glyphenthusiast! Thanks as always, darling. ❤

Noctis had lost track of how many hours him and Prompto were lost in the abandoned mine. Along with his entourage, Noctis had stumbled upon it during a side trip for Cindy. Sometimes travelers or evacuees of Insomnia became stranded, with no means of communication for help. They didn't find anyone in trouble, but they _did_ find the entrance to what once appeared to be an old dig site.

He'd wanted to explore it on a whim – to see a part of the kingdom seldom touched. The mine wasn't even marked on any of their maps, it so forgotten by the passage of time. Upon entering the site, goblins lured him over a sealed ventilation shaft. Noctis' weight had shattered the decayed boards, and in dashing to grab him Prompto had tumbled right after him.

When Noctis came to it was dark, too far and pitch black for him to see a place to warp back up. His hails to Gladiolus and Ignis were met with echoes of his own voice and nothing else. They had no choice but forward. He didn't intend to leave his friend behind in a deserted mineshaft, not that it stopped Prompto's protests. "Noct, buddy—"

"If you're going to suggest going on without you, then _save it_ ," Noctis interrupted with a vehemence he rarely tapped in to. He refused to hear another word on the awful suggestion and tightened his hold on Prompto's hip. His friend had taken the worst of the fall and needed to be carried.

His dislocated shoulder was amenable to repairs, although the noise Prompto made under Noctis' hands when he reset the joint would haunt him later. Gladiolus had done the same for Noctis enough times for him to understand the basics, but he'd never had to fix it for someone _else_. He hoped never to have to do it again.

The piece of scrap metal that'd punctured Prompto's abdomen, however, was another matter. Noctis could call upon the gods and control the elements, but he couldn't mend a stab wound like Ignis could. _What a fucking joke_ , he thought bitterly, especially in retrospect. When Noctis had awoken earlier, it was to Prompto hovering over him and using their last potion to heal Noctis' broken bones. There wasn't any way for him to do the same in return, the meager wrap job he did with scraps of their clothing only buying them time.

At the reprimand, Prompto bit his lip and let his head loll against Noctis' chest. The guilt that enveloped him at raising his voice went ignored. Prompto was silent while they shuffled down the tunnel some more, but he wasn't quiet for long. "Hey, Noct?"

"I said _no_ , Prompto, and that's final. I'm not leaving you here alone."

"No, not— Don't you hear that?" Prompto asked.

Noctis slowed to a stop and canted his head. Sure enough, something _drip-dropped_ nearby. Moving water had to come from somewhere, like maybe an open sump station. If nothing else, with how dehydrated they were getting on their expedition they could use the drink.

"Yeah. Come on, I think it's this way," Noctis said. He adjusted Prompto's arm around his shoulders and maneuvered them around a corner. It dead-ended at a caved in section of the corridor.

He transferred Prompto to the wall, leaning him against the surface for support, while he inspected the debris. The sound of water came through a small crack in the pile of rocks and rotted wood. If he shined his lapel light just right he could see metallic flashes and bright yellow labels on the other side.

"We might have found a utility room or some kind of service center," he mumbled. Noctis started digging. The exposed part of his hands scraped on the sharp stones and bits of glass. At a particularly severe jab in the thumb, he gritted his teeth and worked past the discomfort. His body slid off the pile when he removed a large boulder that set off a small landslide.

Coughing and fanning the dust out of his face, he saw that there was enough room to squeeze inside. His friend didn't have enough willpower to crawl on his own, so Noctis had no choice but to drag him up and into the room. Noctis clenched his eyes shut against the whimpers Prompto made at every twist or tug. He left him to rest at the bottom.

On the opposite side of the room were shelves, circuit breakers and electrical meters; and a door. Noctis ran to check the exit. To his immediate annoyance, the handle snapped off in his hand. It'd rusted so badly that at the merest touch the latch gave way. He tossed it aside and tried budging the door with his body. All Noctis accomplished were earning himself new bruises.

"Damn. I was really hoping this would be the way…"

"Heh. Nothing can be that easy, right? Not like we _deserve_ to catch a break or anything," Prompto joked. The act was so obviously forced that Noctis turned to regard him with increasing concern. He startled to attention at the sight of Prompto standing by himself and faltering.

Noctis hurried to assist him. They missed the desk with its chair and ended up sitting on the bare floor, instead. Wheezing now, Prompto slumped against him. The pallor of his skin was pale enough that his freckles stood out in alarming contrast. Although his friend probably didn't care, Noctis reached to brush his sweaty bangs away from his eyes. His gesture left a wet streak in the blond locks.

It was blood.

Gasping, he snapped his hand away and turned it over to see his entire palm coated in red. He'd damaged his hands while making a path into the room, certainly, but not _this_ badly. Which could only indicate one thing. Noctis wrenched Prompto's vest aside to check and, plain enough to see, the gray scraps he'd used to wrap his injury were even darker looking.

 _Fuck_ , Noctis thought as he released the article of clothing, as if scalded. Shooting to his feet, he mentally added, _shit_. Then, for good measure and his own benefit, he thought, _goddamn it_ , over and over again until he found the source of the water they'd heard earlier.

Across from where they were sitting was a pipe. There were several of them scattered along the walls, but that set in particular was broken in half. Fresh enough seeming liquid dribbled along the interior until it fell out the bottom. Noctis found someone's pencil holder and upended the writing utensils on the desk, uncaring how they rolled across the surface or fell to the ground. Rushing over, he gathered as much of the water as he could without spilling it.

Noctis concentrated on the cup; his hands shook from the strain of keeping it steady. At least, that's the lie he told himself as he put all his effort into infusing the liquid with his magic. Weakened from their earlier confrontations in the mine and his subsequent fall, Noctis hadn't enough energy to outright cast a healing spell, but with water as a catalyst and the right incentive…

He remembered something his father taught him when he was younger and struggling with casting spells. Up until his eighteenth birthday, everyone (including himself) was worried that he might not have even _inherited_ the Crystal's power. He'd never shown signs of possessing the will of fire or ice or lightning in any of his training sessions.  

Everyone, that is, except his father.

His unwavering belief manifested during a celebration at the Citadel, an event that was more for show than in the honor of Noctis' coming of age. It'd been filled with advisors and rich patrons, making subtle and not-so-subtle inquiries on his abilities. Sensing his increasing distress at all the invasive questions, his father had taken Noctis aside to the gardens for a rare moment of privacy.

" _Pay them no heed. People incorrectly assume that because they can see and touch the Crystal, that what it grants us is a tangible thing_ ," he recalled his father saying to him. He had stared without seeing the flowers or him, deep in his own contemplation. " _A thing that can be forced, but it is far greater than that._ "

" _You make it sound alive_ ," Noctis had said, smirking. His father hadn't smiled back.

" _That is because magic_ is _. It lives in our bodies, our veins, our hearts._ "

He'd scoffed, eyes glancing askew. Noctis hadn't believed him. How could he? All his ancestors had manifested their talents prior to reaching their teens. His own father had been utilizing enchantments since before he was king, as early as twelve.

The majority of his life had been dedicated to generating the barrier that protected their capital city, whereas Noctis couldn't even produce a snowflake's worth of magic. His father was disciplined and powerful in a way Noctis never was or could ever hope to be. Sometimes, he wondered how he hadn't driven his dad to embarrassed disappointment with how pathetic he still was.

" _Your mother made that same face when I explained this to her the first time_." His tone, as if speaking of a side note, brought Noctis' attention back to center. This was no easy aside. His father rarely spoke of his late wife, Noctis' birth mother. They'd never broached the subject of why that was, Noctis too hesitant to traverse a subject his father obviously had no interest in partaking. Or, so he assumed.

" _She was a practical woman and hated galas with an abhorrent passion, finding them frivolous affairs, but at my request she accompanied me to my coronation ceremony. Until that moment I had never seen her look more radiant_." He'd paused in what Noctis thought was for effect, but his next words had proven that incorrect as he steeled himself. " _I may have become so enflamed by her appearance that I set her dress mistakenly on fire._ "

" _You what?_ " Noctis, deadpan, had asked.

He'd rubbed his beard in nervous habit. " _She was furious, as you can imagine. Explaining to her that it was not some prank and instead born of…_ other _factors was quite arduous._ "

At the time he'd been torn on the matter. Hearing of his mother was precious, but discussing his parent's passions was decidedly discomfiting. The mortification had won out, Noctis shaking his head and covering his eyes with a hand. " _Dad, seriously?_ "

" _Yes. It is like that with all things. When I find my strength wavering I remember the shared fondness between your mother and myself_ ," he'd admitted, sobering. Noctis removed the obstruction of his hand to stare in rapt attention. " _Or the tenacity of our people, or of how proud I am of you._ "

His father held out his hand, the one not clutching his cane, but the one adorned with the Ring of the Lucii. It'd glinted in the artificial lighting of the garden, looking to be of harmless jewelry when Noctis had witnessed how it was anything but. He'd glanced at it, then toward his father's face.

" _Son, if there were but one thing I could teach you and that you should take away from all this, it is that magic is a part of you and me._ " He had waited patiently for Noctis to slip his fingers into his hand. His father's skin had felt dry, but warm. Familiar. " _It is in the way we move and feel. And I know when you are ready to accept who you are, you will do great things, too._ "

In the space between their hands, where a mist of healing magic had formed, Noctis had finally understood.

Tapping into that wisdom again, Noctis recalled the way his father's love had flowed into his being. How it'd supported him without force, counterbalancing the overwhelming strain of the Crystal's magic flowing through his body. He considered the care he held for his friends; how much it meant to him that they protected and stood by him no matter the cost.

 _Like hell_ , Noctis felt with his entire being _, was he going to lose Prompto to this._

Blinking open his eyes, he stared past the tears and saw the faint, green glow of the water inside the cup. Noctis couldn't help but laugh in his relief. On wobbly legs, he returned to Prompto's side and kneeled in front of him.

He hesitated, though. To lessen the flow of blood he'd been forced to leave the shrapnel in his friend's wound. To heal him properly, Noctis would need to wrench it free. Setting the container somewhere secure, he nudged Prompto to get his attention, but his eyes stayed glazed over.

He wasn't sure if his friend could even comprehend where he was or what was happening. Clearing his throat, Noctis explained his actions anyway. "Hey. I'm gonna…count to three, okay? Then you might feel a little pinch. I need you keep stationary. Think you can do that?"

"Mm. That sounds nice. I like staying still," Prompto mumbled.

"That's good. You do that," he encouraged, fingers fumbling with the makeshift coverings. Noctis wasn't prepared for how enflamed the wound was underneath. Everywhere was smeared blood and he swore there was bare _muscle_ exposed around the broken piece of metal. Throat thick, Noctis counted to one.

Then he ripped the shrapnel out.

Prompto screamed and bucked under him. Without losing his momentum, Noctis splashed some of the potion across the gash. On contact, it turned into a fine vapor and coated Prompto's entire side. The skin knit itself back together, the layer thin and scarred pink, but the bleeding at least stopped.

Noctis wiped his forehead and sighed. "Sorry about that. Gladio taught me the trick; claims it distracts the person and keeps them from tensing up worse."

He could vouch from personal experience, although he didn't get the chance to tell Prompto as much. His friend had passed out during the procedure. Panicking, Noctis shook him by the arm. "Prompto! Wake up."

No response. He grabbed the last of the potion and tried to get Prompto to drink it. The liquid trickled uselessly out the side of his mouth. Not knowing what else to do, Noctis splashed it across Prompto's face.

Sputtering, his friend shook his head and stared wide-eyed at him. "Ew! What did you just throw at me? Gah, I think it's in my nose."

"You're welcome," he said. Noctis slumped beside him, both their backs pressed against the wall. Prompto was a blazing fever against his side. He almost elbowed Noctis in the chest as he went to wipe his face clean and only found it sticky.

Prompto gave up and observed their predicament. "Aw man, where are we?"

Truthfully, Noctis hadn't a clue and refrained from admitting that fact. During their travels it seemed as if they were going up, but he'd quickly become disorientated. He'd wanted so much to return Prompto to safety or rejoin Ignis and Gladiolus that Noctis had stopped keeping track of their surroundings. For all he knew they'd walked to the center of the planet.

"Wherever this is, there sure are a lot of pipes. I wonder if they transcend the whole mine?" Prompto kept musing aloud. He idly flicked one of the rusted tubes, a soft vibration humming in response. Tilting his head, Prompto tapped a short staccato into the metal.

He recognized that expression. Perking up, Noctis asked, "What'd you got?

"If these really do run along the whole mine, ya think the guys can hear us? I dunno if they can trace us, but at least they'll know we're alive. Worth a shot, right?"

Noctis considered his theory, then summoned his daggers from the Armiger. He handed one to Prompto for him to use. "Let's make some noise."

For hours they beat along the pipes. Prompto would drum different songs on them, wanting to lighten the mood by turning it into a game and taking requests. But eventually they began to tire. By the end, Noctis had let his head fall back and he mindlessly _tap, tap, tapped_ on offbeat tempo. He noticed when Prompto slowed and then paused a little too long.

"Don't give up now," Noctis said. He patted Prompto's cheek with the back of his hand, barely registering a reaction. Through his bracer he felt the heat his friend was emitting in waves. Dejectedly, he realized Prompto's temperature had risen, probably from infection.

"S-sorry," he murmured, leaning into the cooler touch of Noctis' hand on his forehead. "Guess I'm…just…getting sleepy? Yeah."

"Hang in there," Noctis begged. "Just a little longer."

He watched his friend try – really, _really_ give it his all. Prompto lifted the dagger, but the tip of the knife skittered down the pipe and scratched the concrete. Spent, he could only shake his head back-and-forth. Noctis dismissed the weapons for them both and held Prompto close, unsure how else to comfort him.

"Drastic measure time?" Prompto said into his collarbone. He felt heavier as his full weight bared down on him. Noctis stared somewhere over the crown of his head. "Ugh. Never… _never_ gonna live this down."

"Sucks," Noctis agreed. Officially out of ideas and with zero options left, the both of them yelled Ignis' name repeatedly. Prompto's lashes fluttered a couple times as he struggled to keep conscious, his voice tapering off completely. Louder and more desperate, Noctis shouted, " _Gladio!_ "

Outside the door, distant voices answered.

"Noct? Is that you? I could swear I heard him…"

"We're here! Noct, where are you?"

Noctis licked his lips. His throat was raw from all the screaming. He kept at it, anyway. "Here, in here!"

He pushed himself to his feet, stumbling the first step, but made it to the door. Noctis pounded on it until he heard footsteps reach the threshold. It rattled on its hinges as someone on the other side tried to gain entry. When it didn't budge there was a flurried exchange he couldn't decipher, followed by Gladious shouting for his benefit, "Stand back! I'm forcing it open."

Stepping to the side, Noctis watched as Gladiolus rammed the door. Cracks spread at each corner of the frame and a few pebbles from the ceiling tumbled to the floor. On the guardsman's second attempt, the door dented where his body connected with it. The material contorted enough that Gladiolus could wedge his greatsword between the metal and the casing, leveraging it apart with a single heave of his shoulders.

Gladiolus charged inside, scanning the room and looking prepared to murder something. Never before had Noctis been happier to see the big guy in his entire life. He might have said that last part out loud because Gladiolus' focus went to him. His posture didn't relent, but his gaze softened. "Yo. Sorry it took us so long."

Ignis was right behind Gladiolus and shamelessly fretted over him. Patting Noctis down, he checked for injuries. He asked, "Are you all right? Where does it hurt?"

"No," he blurted. That conveyed the wrong message, so he shook his head. "I mean yes. I'm fine, but Prompto isn't!"

He took Ignis by the cuff of his jacket sleeve and dragged him to where he'd left Prompto propped in the corner. The scene was reminisce of the time he was six, maybe seven years old. He'd found an injured kitten outside one of the Citadel windows and went to find the only person he'd trusted at the time. Noctis had carted Ignis halfway through the palace, imploring him to make it all better. Hopefully like before, he could heal Prompto like he'd helped Noctis nurse the feline back to health.

Steadfastly, he trailed after Noctis until he spotted Prompto for himself. Ignis broke off to examine him. Wanting to catch the other man up to speed on Prompto's condition, he rushed to convey whatever came to mind. Noctis wasn't normally prone to talking so much, but he couldn't stop himself. "I think he's sick? Not _sick_ -sick, like throwing up, but…he’s hot to the touch? Don't move him too much, or you might reopen his cut. I tried using my magic, you gotta believe me—"

A hand clamped down on Noctis' shoulder, cutting his explanations short. He followed the hand up the tattooed arm, to see Gladiolus staring intently at him. "You did good, Noct. We've got it from here."

 _I haven't done enough yet. Prompto almost died for me_ , he wanted to argue. But in the span of him preparing his reply and closing his eyes, he finished blinking to find himself in the Regalia. The unique rumble of its engine at near maximum throttle were a dead giveaway, if Noctis being sandwiched in the backseat weren't obvious enough.

Moonlight intermittently striped across the leather. If it was truly nighttime, that meant they must have been trapped inside that mine for at least a day, maybe longer. To Noctis, it felt as if they'd been down there for an eternity.

Thrown over him, and Prompto too, was a white jacket. Besides the enormity of its size, the scent permeating the leather indicated whom it'd belonged to. The smell of Gladiolus' aftershave was all over it. Noctis' nose scrunched up at the woodsy fragrance and he lifted his chin over the collar to breathe easier, although he didn't shift more than that.

The owner of the jacket was to his right and Prompto on the left, leaving him squished in the middle. He stared at Gladiolus' outline against the window, gauging that he'd recently dozed off. Gladiolus' elbow was braced on the armrest of the door and his cheek planted on his knuckles, the other hand barely holding onto his book. It threatened to slip off his lap if they hit one wrong pothole.

Noctis turned to observe Prompto; this close he could determine that his friend looked much better. Some color had returned to his cheeks. Every other exhale he took sent his bangs swaying. He was just relieved that Prompto wasn't wheezing anymore. Noctis contently watched how the other half of the jacket rose and fell with his even breathing when Ignis spoke up from the driver's seat.

"Returned to the land of the living, I presume? How are you fairing?"

He considered the question seriously, before settling on, "Like something died in my mouth."

Gladiolus' refrained from opening his eyes, but his chuckles reverberated in Noctis' ribs. He shouldn't have been surprised that the guardsman wasn't actually asleep on the job.

"Worry not, we should reach our campsite in about twenty minutes or so. You can freshen up there," Ignis said. He couldn't tell from staring at the back of his head, but the other man might have been grinning when he said it.

Noctis was somber as he resumed staring at Prompto. "How is he?"

"Impeccable," Ignis said with surprising ease. "After your expert care, I need only finish your work and cure some superficial damages. The remainder will go away after some well-deserved relaxation." This time, in the rearview mirror, Noctis could see Ignis' eyes crinkle as he smiled. He summarized, "He'll be fine, Your Highness."

He grunted, mildly appeased at the news, and eased into the seat. He nudged Gladiolus until he obliged, lifting his arm so Noctis could nestle into place. Although, something else occurred to him before he could rest. "Hey guys?"

He could sense both men at attention, but it was Ignis that sounded an acknowledgement. "Hm?"

"The next time I suggest we go exploring a mine, or a cave, or anything like that? Tell me to fuck off."

"Duly noted," Ignis said drily.

That decided, Noctis was able to settle in. If he just so happened to search out Prompto's hand to hold under Gladiolus' jacket, to reassure himself of his presence, then all the better.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [writing blog on Tumblr](http://snaurus.tumblr.com/) for more content!


End file.
